Chapter 24

24

" T he king," Jace says idly, selecting a heavy longsword off the weapons rack, "will be expecting you to perform like a proper Blackblood warrior. Now that your magic has manifested, the real countdown begins. He's been patient, waiting for your power to emerge, and now that it has, he will no doubt wish to speed things along."? *

He presses the mother-of-pearl hilt into my palm and selects another sword for himself.

"We know you have the gift of fire," he says, turning to face me. "And I'm willing to bet that the last Blackblood has a lot more than that in her arsenal. You need to learn to call forth that power at will. To use it in tandem with your physical skills so that you are an unparalleled opponent."

Without warning, he attacks. My reflexes are fast. Not just fast from months of speed and strength drills with Jace. This is different. I'm supernaturally fast.

Our swords clang together loudly as I block his swing, gritting my teeth beneath the weight of his force. Sparks fly as he runs his blade down the length of mine, then begins to circle me lazily. I hold a defensive position, watching as he crooks a finger at me, urging me to attack.

I twirl the blade in my hand and thrust at his arm. He bats my sword away with barely any effort, and it clatters to the ground.

"Don't be predictable, witch," he drawls.

I bend to pick it up and cry out as his boot stomps down on my hand, the bones crunching beneath. I stumble back, gasping at my mangled hand in horror.

"You've been disarmed." His voice is filled with authority and harsh command. "What will you do? You have seconds." He circles me again like a vulture waiting to feast on my carcass. I cradle my crippled hand, feeling the pain lance through it.

"Does it hurt?" he spits at me relentlessly. I glare at him in answer.

"Fix it. Reach into that bag of Blackblood tricks and heal yourself."

"I don't know how to do that yet, you bastard," I hiss.

"You'd better figure it out because your enemy certainly won't wait patiently for you to get your shit together."

He advances, swinging his sword downward, and I tuck and roll to avoid being sliced straight down the middle. As soon as I'm up, I land a punch to his gut with my good hand. The force makes him bow momentarily, and I used the opportunity to bring my knee into his face. Blood stains my pant leg as he loses his balance, stumbling back and taking me to the ground with him. Ruined hand temporarily forgotten, we grapple on the floor, locked in a power struggle. He lands on top, his hand going for my throat.

"Pathetic! On your back in a matter of seconds. What's your next move, witch? Choke to death?" he snarls at me, bringing his bloody face close to mine.

He's trying to rile me. Trying to provoke me into using my magic.

Fine.

If it's magic he wants, then it's magic he'll get.

Closing my eyes, I sink into the familiar thrumming sensation beneath my skin. I reach down into myself, and when I come up, I haul whatever I can with me.

I feel my temperature warming but don't realize just how much until Jace pulls his hand back, the skin singed and angry. I throw him off of me and go for the sword again. I am stopped when the air rushes from my lungs, and I begin to gasp.

No air will come. I whirl toward him and his outstretched hand.

He's using magic. I didn't even know he had any of his own. He certainly never used it in the training ring before. I sink to my knees, clutching at the phantom hands around my throat. I claw at my own neck, trying to get down a breath until I'm sure that I'm turning blue.

If Jace wants to take my air, then I'll give him more than he ever bargained for.

I thrust my hands out and pray to whatever god is listening for this plan to work. A heavy gust of wind bursts from my palms and slams him back into the wall of the training ring. The chokehold releases instantly, and I gulp down air greedily.

"Air and fire." I tilt my head in challenge as I pant. "Wonder what else I can do."

"We're about to find out, witch." He reaches into his belt and throws a dagger at my head.

Instead of moving, I catch it by the blade. In the hand that Jace destroyed moments ago. Only it is no longer twisted at odd angles or barking in pain. My hand is as good as new, save for the rivulets of blood streaming down my forearm from my leaking palm.

I unclench my fist, letting the dagger clatter to the ground. For a moment, I am distracted by the deep gash in my hand as it mends itself together, sealing until all that remains is a tiny pink mark. I turn it over in wonder.

That's when I see Jace's discarded sword begin to levitate.

I quickly scoop mine off the ground, gaping at the floating blade. It swipes at me as Jace leans against the training ring, looking unfazed. He's controlling the sword without even touching it. I block and parry, but the blade is relentless in its pursuit. I stumble, earning a deep gash in my forearm.

"Stop!" I shout at Jace. "I need to stop!"

Breathless, I block what would have been a fatal blow to my chest. I try mustering up some of that wind I used on him a few moments ago, but my well is dry. I can feel the magic sputter out, depleted.

Whirling toward him, I plead, "Jace! That's enough!"

That's when his sword swings around.

I see it in slow motion.

There is no time to block its trajectory, heading straight for my neck. My eyes snap shut, protecting me from the inevitable sight of my head toppling from its rightful place. I brace for the worst but feel the cool edge of the blade against my skin as it halts abruptly. I open my eyes to see the sword suspended in place, resting against my throat. Jace waves a hand haphazardly, and it clatters to the ground.

"You're dead," he says flippantly.

"Are you insane?!" I scream, my eyes blazing. "You could have killed me!"

"Oh, save the dramatics for the king." He brushes the dust off his shoulder carelessly.

"I will," I pant, stalking after him as he starts toward the rack. "And maybe then I'll explain to him how you nearly decapitated his only chance at championing the last potential Dragon Rider. Or maybe I'll let you explain it to him and watch as your head rolls."

He snarls and advances toward me powerfully.

"I would rather see you headless than on top of a dragon at this point. Just to have a moment's peace from that incessant mouth."

"I'm done training with you." I throw the sword at his feet and begin to stalk past him, wiping the sweat from my hairline. "Tell the king to find me someone else."

He catches my arm and jerks me to a stop.

"No one will prepare you better than I."

"And no one is more likely to stab me in the back while I'm not looking." I try to rip my arm away, but he tightens his grip. "For one second, one second , I thought you might have changed. After everything that happened yesterday, you were kind to me. I even justified your actions to Zadyn, thinking you did it for my own good. But here you are, back to your cruel, unfeeling self. You said it yourself—I can't trust you. So tell me how I can continue to train with you when I know how deeply you detest me? How you genuinely want me dead! You'd be happy if I was out of your hair and out of your life for good!"

"My life would be a lot easier without you in it, witch." His voice is quiet as his jaw twitches slightly.

" Why ," I demand. " Why are you like this ?"

He tugs me forward sharply, his face an inch from mine.

"Don't you get it? You threaten to destroy every plan I've laid. I am on the brink of becoming Hand of the King. I am courting his daughter, the princess. I am expected to propose soon. Then you show up, and suddenly everything is on the verge of collapse. I can't think of anything or anyone else. I'm obsessed with you. Day and night, my thoughts wander beyond my control. And my head is needed elsewhere. I'm helping to inform decisions that impact an entire kingdom. And all I can think about is the moment when I can leave behind the politicking to train with you. So, yes, my life would be much simpler if you weren't here to taunt me, to tease me, to torture me every single day of my miserable life."

" Jace. " His name is barely audible on my lips.

He shakes his head in disgust and stalks away. Leaving me alone and baffled in the training ring.

April 2022

The apartment door slams shut like a punctuation mark at the end of a sentence. I plant my palms on the surface and force down deep breaths as I stare down at my water-logged shoes.

Three hard knocks shake my door. I squeeze my eyes closed and pray that he will just leave.

"Serena," Jack says from the other side. I bite my lip to keep from crying out or making a sound.

"Please." The hurt in his voice is like a knife to my chest. "Baby, just let me in. I'm right here. Serena, I know you're there—I can hear you breathing. Can we just talk? Please. Please ."

I lean my head against the door, holding in the sobs that threaten to explode from me.

"I'll stand here all night if I have to. I don't care. I'll wait."

"Jack," I croak, unable to stop myself, "just go. I can't do this anymore. I can't—" A heavy sob breaks through the surface, and I choke on my words.

"Open the door, baby. Come on," he says earnestly. Sweetly. Like he just wants to take care of me.

But I can't let him .

"I know you're scared," he says through the door, passion saturating every word. "I'm scared too. But I want you. I want you today, I want you tomorrow, I want you on your worst day, your best day, and every fucking day in between. I don't care what happens. I just need you."

With every word, my heart thaws a bit more. But it's not enough to soften what has grown hard as stone and cold as ice in the months since my dad died.

My hand slides down the door to the lock. Jack pushes it open instantly and stands there breathing hard, heavy raindrops dripping from his dark hair and pooling on the hardwood floor. I stand in front of him, shivering, arms folded around myself. My wet hair clings to my neck and face.

Jack takes one long step forward and folds me into his chest. I push my face into him, comforted instantly by his familiar woodsy scent.

How is it possible to need someone so badly and also want to push them away at the same time?

"I love you," he whispers against the top of my head and plants a sweet, lingering kiss there. Another sob racks through me against my will.

"Talk to me," he pleads, pulling back and lowering himself to my eyeline. "Let me in." His hand strokes my face, but I can't look him in the eye, or I'll completely shatter. I keep my eyes focused on his lip ring and try to hold myself together.

"You know there is nothing I wouldn't do for you."

"You won't accept this as my decision."

"I think we need to be open to all options, don't you agree?"

"I told you I'm not getting married." I turn away from him, hardening as I strip off my drenched jacket and sink into the living room couch.

"Not now or not ever?" He follows me and kneels at my feet, his hands on my knees. "We can do this. We can have this baby."

"I don't want it," I snap. "I don't want any of it. I don't want this baby."

Lies. Such terrible lies.

He pulls back an inch.

"You don't want our baby?"

Of course I do, I want to scream. I want our baby, and I want you. Just not like this. Not when I am a shell of a person that you would tie yourself to out of obligation.

Instead, I respond with, "This is all hypothetical, anyway. I don't even know if I'm pregnant, Jack. This could all be over nothing."

"Well, you're late, and both tests came back inconclusive. But I think we're dealing with a bigger issue here, aren't we?"

"Only the doctor is going to be able to tell for sure. They have to do a blood test." I wipe away my tears with the back of my hand.

"And if it comes back that you are?" he presses. "What will you do?"

"I'll do what I have to."

"Why are you acting like you're in this alone? Like I'm some insensitive fuck who doesn't care if you keep it or not? I told you that I am in this."

"You never wanted kids, Jack."

"I do now. I want them with you." He grips my knees tightly in his tattooed hands. I stare at them while he speaks into my face.

"I want to marry you. I told you the night we met that I would. Let me be here for you. Let me be in this with you."

"You proposed because you thought I might be pregnant, Jack. Don't deny it!" I say as he shouts over me, "That is not true! "

"Look at me and tell me you planned on proposing before you found out about this," I challenge. He hesitates for a fraction of a second.

"Not right away, but I knew I wanted to marry you."

I brush him off and get to my feet, running my hands down my face in frustration.

"My answer is no."

"You love me," he counters. I bite my lower lip and nod ruefully. "But you won't marry me or have this baby. You know, we're not kids anymore. This isn't some random teen pregnancy. We're adults. It's a lot harder to justify making a mistake and then just erasing the evidence."

" There it is !" I point at him. "Right there. This was a mistake to you. I knew it."

"That is not how I meant it, and you know it! We weren't careful, and now we may be facing the consequences of our actions. But we're old enough to take responsibility and deal with the circumstances."

"A mistake," I repeat, shaking my head.

"The only mistake here is sweeping it under the rug like it's nothing. Refusing to be with me because of your own pride."

"I don't want to be a circumstance you just found yourself in the middle of!" I shout.

"You're not now, and you never have been. Goddamnit !" he yells back, his deep voice echoing off the walls. Jack grips his hair at the roots and balls his fists.

"Why can't you let me love you?" ? *

I say nothing.

I can't.

I'm frozen in time. Speechless and numb.

"There's nothing you have to say?" he laughs humorlessly. " Serena ."

My name is a plea on his lips. But his words go mute the second they leave his mouth, and I retreat further and further into my own fear. He continues, but I hear nothing—as if I'm submerged in water.

And I give him nothing. I stare blankly at him, not registering a word he's saying. Because I know what's about to happen.

I'm about to lose another person I love. I already feel the rift taking root. Because even if the test comes back and I'm not pregnant, we won't come back from this. He will resent me no matter what the results are, no matter what I do. And I already resent me enough for the both of us.

I am not who I was when we met. Grief has ravaged me. And the thought of loving another person so much and then watching them slip away is more than I can handle. He deserves someone whole. I am not that.

Jack is looking at me now, shaking his head, huge tears welling in his eyes. One trembling hand covers his mouth and the other grips his hip tightly. He moves toward me and roughly grabs hold of my head. He presses his cold lips to my skin for five seconds, and I hear him say something that sounds like "goodbye."

Then he's out the door, and I'm alone.

In my head, I form a plan.

I'll have this baby. On my own. I'll try to piece myself together just enough to be a mother. I won't trap Jack into a marriage of obligation like my parents. I love him too much to watch us crumble the way they did.

But I have to leave tonight. I pack what I can fit in my car, and I start driving.

And I don't stop until I run out of road.

* ? Cue: The Wire by HAIM

* ? Cue: The Way It Was by The Killers